


Pre-K: An OL Daycare AU

by writtenrebellion



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daycare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Miscommunication, literally all I do is fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 12:26:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15024587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenrebellion/pseuds/writtenrebellion
Summary: Mary Macnab runs the foremost daycare in the area, but sometimes it’s the adults at drop-off acting more like children than her charges do.





	Pre-K: An OL Daycare AU

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: As promised - a new fic to make up for Thursday’s tiny PD chapter. It’s tropey, it’s cute, it’s fluffy. It’s trademark WR if I do say so myself. Enjoy!

Mary Macnab watched the lights flicker on under drooping eyelids. The fluorescents always had this garish way of picking out every single pop of coloured plastic in the daycare room, and at a pre-caffeinated 5:00 a.m., it was nauseating.

She took a shuffling step forward, only to be met by a resistant tug from the small hand in hers. Similarly droopy-eyed, her seven-year-old son Rabbie was gently swaying forward and back, adamantly trying to fall asleep right on the spot.

 _Poor lad_. He didn’t have school today and, as much as she’d like to spend the day with her one and only bairn, Mary knew there would soon be a whole room full of children in need of her attention. Two of which – she remembered, spotting the blank nametags left on one table – just enrolled last Friday, and would need to be introduced, integrated, watched over carefully to make sure they fit in…

She could feel herself starting to mirror her son’s swaying. A shake of the head snapped her senses back.

“Why don’t ye have a wee kip at mam’s desk, hmm? While it’s still quiet.” She bent down and rubbed his head.

With little more than a nod, Rabbie trudged across the room and pulled himself up onto Mary’s swivel chair. His head promptly dropped into his crossed arms on the desk and Mary smiled, enjoying the moment of peace, fleeting like the night as dawn gradually creeped in through the windows.

First things first. She found a Sharpie and sat at the table, writing in large capital letters.

**JAMIE MURRAY**

**ROGER WAKEFIELD**

* * *

The morning was the usual chaotic beast. Mary kept one eye on the regulars but watched the door intently for her new charges.  

Little Jamie came by last week with his parents – lovely young couple, though the mother had this aura about her that had Mary hoping Mr. Murray would be in charge of pick-up and drop-off. The boy himself, only three-years-old, had rosy cheeks and a toothy grin, and seemed to err more on the excited side of starting daycare, which bade well for Mary. She already had three regularly scheduled morning meltdowns and was grateful not to have another.

Roger, however, she hadn’t met in person yet. But as promised by the kindly Reverend Wakefield, he was a sweet, curious lad and wouldn’t cause too much trouble.

Mary waited for either of the Murrays or the reverend to walk through the door, but instead found herself staring at a young woman dressed in nurse’s attire, holding a chubby, dark-haired boy to her chest.

Her eyes scanned the room, finally landing on Mary, who clambered up from the ground and neatly dodged a few children running past.

“May I help y—?”

“This is Roger, Roger Wakefield.” She was English. Mary nodded. “The reverend’s a dear friend. He told me to bring him here?”

Mary shook her senses back into place. She nodded again, smiling this time.

“Aye, ye’ve found the right place, Miss—err…”

“Claire! Sorry,” she said, pushing a loose curl back into her nurses’ cap. “Claire Beauchamp.”

“I’m Roger!”

The two women laughed.

“Well, I’m verra pleased to meet ye, Roger,” Mary said, bending forward to greet him. “Is that a wee lorry you’ve got there?”

“It’s a  _vroom_.”

“Oh, a  _vroom_ , I see. Well, we’ve got a whole nook of other vrooms here. Would ye like to see?”

At the mere suggestion, Roger squirmed out of Claire’s arms and landed on the floor with arguable grace, eagerly wobbling with outstretched hands towards the back corner where toy car heaven awaited him.

“And verra pleased to meet you too, Miss Claire,” Mary said, straightening herself as they shook hands. “Um, where is the reverend, if ye dinna mind me asking?”

“He’ll be here this evening to pick Roger up,” she explained. “I work at the hospital down the street so he thought it’d be easier for me to drop Roger off and—” She checked her watch. “—speaking of that actually, I hope you don’t think me rude, but I should probably get going.”

“Och aye, of course. I’ll see ye tomorrow, then.”

Claire turned on her heel quickly and – before Mary could say anything – collided right into the large chest of a man walking through the door.

He took a step back, staring with wide blue eyes at Claire as she rubbed her nose.

“Ach, I-I’m sorry, miss.”

“It’s alright,” she said quickly, looking up at him.

Mary followed Claire’s gaze as it settled on his strong jaw, which now pulled into a sheepish grimace.

“I didna see ye there, lass. Are you—” He looked Claire up and down, eyebrows furrowing at the white smock against her already pale skin. “—Miss Macnab…?”

“Ah, that would be me!” Mary raised her hand, coming to stand next to Claire. As she did, she locked onto a familiar face.

“Well there ye are, Jamie lad! Welcome back!”

The boy dwarfed behind the man’s leg poked his head out and pulled that adorable toothy grin Mary remembered so well. She bent to pick him up, then turned her head to the man in the hopes of some sort of introduction.

He, however, was still staring at—

“It’s Claire, actually.”

He nodded in the same eager way Mary had seen countless children do at the prospect of playing outside or having an early snack time.

“Jamie, err… Jamie, as well,” he replied, turning his head between the two of them as if suddenly remembering Mary was still there.

 _Christ_ , but he was obvious, endearing traits notwithstanding. Mary glanced at Claire in her peripheral; surely the young nurse noticed it too.

She hadn’t. Mary wanted to slap herself when she saw that infinitesimal smile bloom on Claire’s face.

“Pleased to meet ye, Jamie  _as well_ ,” Mary jumped in. “Are you and Mrs. Murray—?”

“Shit!” Claire’s eyes went wide, and she clapped a hand over her mouth a moment too late. The room was too loud for anyone other than present company to hear her – Thank God – but wee Jamie’s ears  _had_  pricked up at the word.

“I’m sorry! So, so sorry! It’s just—the time, I—I’m so late.” She quickly smoothed down her clothes as she tried to maneuver around the large bulk of older-Jamie’s body in the doorway. “Pleasure to meet you both. Mary, Jamie.” And in a flash of scurrying white, she was gone.

“Whatsa  _shit_?” Young Jamie piped up. His supposed namesake blinked back into the present and rounded at the boy with a foreboding glare.

“It’s a word ye won’t be using ‘round yer mam and da, aye?”

“A-aye uncle.”

Everything clicked into place in Mary’s head.

“Ah, so ye  _are_  Mrs. Murray’s brother after all.”

“Aye, apologies Miss Macnab—”

“Mary’s fine.”

“—Aye, Miss Mary, then.”

“The hair threw me a bit, but the eyes are a dead giveaway. Ye’ve got the same sort of glare as yer sister.”

“Do I?” He jokingly shuddered. “Then I’ll apologize to ye again, Miss Mary, for potentially scarin’ any of the weans.”

“Oh, dinna fash yerself,” she said with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Ye’ll be taking care of drop-off, aye?”

“Aye, Jenny—ahh, Mrs. Murray’s left me in charge of wee Jamie there. I’ll be picking him up as well.” Mary watched his eyes dart to the side – the path out of the doorway where Claire had run off – and then back again, like he was mulling over whether to ask or not.

“Is uhh…” Apparently curiosity won out. “Has Miss Claire been coming to the daycare long? Only because—well, it’d be nice to know at least one face at pick-up aye?”

“She’s new actually and—” Mary’s attention diverged as she watched young Fergus – quite the troublemaker – slide the Elmer’s glue from the crafts table into his pocket. Her eyes followed him as she absently replied. “—I think she said the boy’s father takes care of pick-up.”

“Oh.”

Mary’s eyes snapped back to him as she realized what she said. Her mouth opened, feeling suddenly compelled to correct herself, but Jamie simply smiled at her.

“Well, no matter. Still nice to know wee Jamie’s no the only new kid, eh? Be good, lad, or I’ll tell yer mam.” With a nod, he turned to walk out the door. “Be seeing ye, Miss Macnab!”

Mary stood gaping as she watched him walk down the path and turn in the opposite direction of where Claire had run off.

What had just happened?  _And was it her fault?_

A shriek from behind jolted her right back to reality. She turned only to find four-year-old Mary Hawkins bawling her eyes out, a perfectly tied pigtail glued to her forehead.

Mary sighed.

First things first.

**~ End …? ~**


End file.
